


it happens

by mashaka



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, M/M, paired with alcohol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:21:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2578067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mashaka/pseuds/mashaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie keeps sleeping at the bar, Mac comes up with a solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> my first fic ever?? exciting wow.  
> this is gonna be multi-chapter

It all started when Mac realized he’d forgotten his wallet at the bar. Normally, that wouldn’t have been a big deal; he’d just grab it the next morning when he opened up. But he was out of and wanting cigarettes, and kept every dollar he had in that old leather thing. The apartment he shared with Dennis was only a five minute walk from the bar, eight if you wanted to take your time. And, yea, sure, there was that meth head with a knife that had mugged the gang a couple times still out there, but Mac was confident in his karate skills enough that he accepted the risk of walking the city alleys past dark just fine (plus, it didn’t hurt that he almost always kept his own knife on him).

So, at just before two in the morning, Mac unlocked and walked in through the back door of Paddy’s. He didn’t bother locking it again as he stepped inside, he was just going to grab the wallet, then head straight to the nearest corner store. He checked the bar first, searching even the mini fridge, and when that ended in him still with empty hands he went to the back room. He figured he probably left it on the desk, or put it in a drawer. And that’s how he discovered Charlie, curled up in the office chair with his head slumped on the desk and drool sliding out of his mouth into a small forming pool.

“What the Hell? Charlie, hey, Charlie! Wake up!”

Mac’s immediate reaction was to wake up his friend and get him out of there, because he was really not supposed to be sleeping in the bar anymore. The whole gang had discussed it with him many times. He took hold of Charlie’s shoulders, shook roughly and yelled for him to get up until he finally groaned and opened his eyes.

“Huh? What’s up, Mac-eroni? Why’re you here?”

“I forgot my wallet. You know you can’t be sleeping in the bar anymore, dude. You gotta go home.”

“Uh… Yea. I’ll do that. Just, uh, I’ll leave after you. Your wallet’s in the drawer, here.”

Mac narrowed his eyes, accepting the wallet Charlie pulled out and handed to him silently. His friend wasn’t even _drunk_ , so it made no sense that he would be sleeping at Paddy’s rather than with Frank on an actual—okay, not an _actual_ bed, but a futon that was _certainly_ more comfortable to sleep on than a ten year old chair. But Mac was tired and just wanted to get some crappy gas station smokes, so the decision to not push the matter was an easy one.

“’K, see you tomorrow.”

And that was that, he left (locking up behind him, because he wasn’t dumb and knew Charlie was more than likely going to just pass out again instead of going home), went to the store then back to his place to catch up on the sleep he undeniably needed.

By the time he’d gotten up, he’d forgotten about the whole _Charlie sleeping in the bar_ thing, too busy brushing his teeth and rubbing the morning gunk out of his eyes. The memory only came back when he, Dennis, and Dee were sitting at the bar, arguing over nothing. Charlie entered from the back room, rubbing at his eyes with his palms. All eyes shot to him when he asked for a beer, and immediately Dennis and Dee jumped on him for sleeping the night at the bar. Mac just took a long sip from his _Coors_ , reached over and grabbed another from behind the bar to toss to Charlie.

“Here y’go, bro.”

He watched his friend’s face relax at the gesture. It was a classic between the two of them, when one could tell there was something weird or wrong with the other but didn’t want to talk about it they’d just give them a beer. Also, Charlie _had_ asked for one.  

“I can’t believe you two. It’s nine in the _morning_ , you know.”

Dennis was always the one quickest to judge for early drinking, but then forget all about it being “ _white trash_ ” the next morning when he poured himself a shot of tequila to start the day with. Mac always just ignored him, continuing to simply sip at the beer he had.

And that was how the day went; Dennis judging, everyone drinking. When the time came for everyone to go to their respective homes, Mac let Dennis leave alone for their apartment in favour of staying that little bit longer. He was expecting that he’d have been alone, but even after Frank had left Charlie stayed. Mac would’ve chalked it up to him wanting to stay and hang out if he hadn’t remained so _silent_. When Charlie hung out with you, there was no question about it because he would talk about absolutely nothing until after both your ears fell off. That or he’d offer up some glue to huff. But at that moment, Charlie was just sitting there, quiet as ever and not even drinking the beer in his hands.

“…Okay, what is even going on with you, dude?”

Obviously handing his friend a beer wasn’t going to play out, since he’d been holding the same one for nearly ten minutes without drinking anything from it. That left only one option: to actually _talk_ about whatever it was that was so obviously bothering his friend. The last time either of them had gone for that option was before glue huffing or beer drinking, when Mac’s father was arrested and sent to prison. They were throwing rocks at nothing, as they oft did in those days, when Charlie pressed on what was bothering his friend. Mac didn’t ask Charlie about his feelings or problems for nothing, didn’t break the streak they had of not acknowledging the others problems for no reason. It’s just that, in all the years Charlie and he had been best friends, Mac had _never_ seen Charlie hold a beer without drinking from it. If it was alcoholic and his friend had it in his hands, its chances of surviving any longer than five minutes were too low to bother counting.

“Uh, what, what do you mean?”

“I _mean_ , you`re staying here with me way past when everyone else left, without talking or drinking. What’s even up with that?”

“Oh, well, I’m, uh.”

Mac watched his friend struggle with words until he finally gave up and chugged back his drink instead, drowning any truth about his struggles with the bitter taste of wheat and malt, finishing with a burped out “there, I drank.”

Not exactly the point Mac was trying to make, but whatever, he tried and Charlie obviously doesn’t want to talk and he has never been one for pushing. So he just finishes off his beer, grabs another and starts on finishing that one. And soon enough it’s _late_ , later than Mac meant for it to get, and he’s drunker than he meant to get, too, by about a mile. He pushed himself up off the stool he had been sat on, nearly knocks it over while trying to balance himself out. Charlie looks a little alarmed, probably didn’t expect Mac to get himself to stumbling-can-barely-stand drunk.

“Hey, uh, man, you alright?”

“Yep, I’m great, just gonna go home now.”

To his self, the words sounded clear and normal and he figured he wasn’t even _that_ drunk, more like just a bit tipsy. But apparently Charlie took a different interpretation; because he was soon on his feet and had an arm firm on Mac’s shoulder to sort of help hold him up.

“Yea, alright buddy, if you say so. How about I walk you— _with_ you, home.”

“Mm, sounds good, man. You smell like cheese, but I kinda like it. Have I tol’ you that before? I like how you smell like cheese. Not in a gay way, though.”

Mac was leaning in close by this point, feeling comfortable in putting his own arm around Charlie and letting most of his weight rest on his shorter friend. He can’t remember if Charlie replied to his weird drunken compliment, and if so how, because he seemed to have closed his eyes and when they were open again there was a hand in his pocket and he was in front of the door to his and Dennis’ place. He was still nice and close to Charlie, still able to inhale the stench of cheese that always seemed to permeate from him that was in some way _nice_ and homely and it made Mac think of the time when they were ten and there wasn’t anything beyond beer and a container of leftover Chinese food from years ago in Mac’s fridge, so Charlie brought over a block of cheese and a loaf of bread from his own home and they’d feasted and pretended they were kings, the cheese representing caviar and the bread representing _fancier_ bread than just plain white store brand.

“Alright, bro, can you make it to your room?”

Mac just grunted, walked into the place with his hold on Charlie apparently forgotten and resulting in his friend being awkwardly dragged inside with him.

“Uh, alright, okay, I’ll just… Can you let me go?”

When the question really processed in his mind, Mac released and pushed the other away as quickly as he could, which really wasn’t that quick considering his drunken reflexes but it was still enough to knock himself off balance and reaching out for Charlie again because Charlie has always balanced him out, literally and not-so-literally. He could practically _feel_ his friend rolling his eyes, could hear him let out that small sigh/grunt combo that meant he was trying to sound annoyed but really, he couldn’t get it up to be annoyed. Not with Mac, anyway. They never could do that to each other; make the other honest-to-all _annoyed_. And if they did, it was only ever in a good natured way, and on purpose. So Charlie walked Mac to his room, the latter causing them to stumble a few times and bump into some furniture. Eventually they made it, however, and once Mac was safely sitting on the bed Charlie pulled his self out of the others grip and turned to leave.

“Bro, you may as well stay, it’ll be like when we were young ‘n had sleep overs. Better than you goin’ back to the bar.”

Mac struggled with his shirt until it was off, glad and relieved to see Charlie was still there and had even turned back around by the time he’d succeeded.

“Fine, but we’re both keeping the rest of our clothes on, okay?”

And at that, at hearing his plan had been accepted, Mac kicked off his shoes and lay on his bed so his side was touching the wall. He didn't bother waiting for Charlie to do the same until he was asleep, dead to the world and ready for a dreamless night.


	2. it's a little messed up, a little not

Mac woke up to his face pressed against the back of Charlie’s head, nose breathing in the familiar scent of his hand-soap washed hair, an arm wrapped tightly around his friends waist pulling him close as he can while Dennis went off about “ _leaving the door open to cuddle like a couple of homos_ ” and “ _someone could’ve_ robbed _us_.” He only opened his eyes after hearing the door slam to see that Dennis was gone, probably pissed no one was listening. He registered feeling a weird, slightly warm and wet spot on the arm that wasn’t holding Charlie, and lifted his head to see that the other had his own head resting on his arm and was _drooling_ on him. This, in any other circumstance, would be undeniably disgusting. But Mac always got into a weird head space when Charlie stayed over like this, ever since they were kids, unable to really think anything other than _this is comfy_ and _Charlie smells nice_ , or the occasional _shit I have a boner_. The last happens less often than you’d think, but more often than Mac was comfortable with. The first time, it was when they were thirteen, and after Charlie had left Mac had rushed off to the library, going aisle to aisle and grabbing every book he could find on male anatomy to read at a large table by his self. He was searching for an easy answer as to why sleeping in a bed with his best friend gave him a boner, and after getting distracted by a few pictures he came across what he was looking for. Apparently, during the night, if the bladder was full it would press on something or other, etcetera etcetera, the end result being an erection. Mac took that explanation to Charlie, and they both agreed it was just because he had to piss and it had nothing to do with Charlie, or sleeping in the bed with Charlie, so they continued on with their sleepovers like nothing happened.

He glanced over at one of the many Jesus pictures in his room, and an overwhelming sense of guilt consumed him. It was the same reason at the age of sixteen he’d set up a separate makeshift bed for Charlie instead of simply sharing his bed like they did, and the same reason by the time they were seventeen they’d stopped their sleepovers altogether. Mac simply _couldn’t_. He couldn’t deal with himself being this close to another man; he couldn’t deal with the weird swirly feeling he got in his stomach that being this close to _Charlie_ gave him. It was wrong. Even if neither of them was gay, it was still wrong. Man shall not lie with man; simple as that. Mac shoved himself away from Charlie, rubbed an open palm roughly through his hair and felt, deep in his skin, that familiar _festering_. The one that made him feel like his own skin wasn’t meant for him, that he was wearing another person’s suit and it was an entire size too small. So, he did what he always did when he got that feeling. He went to the kitchen, pulled out a beer from the fridge, popped it open and took a _long_ drink, not stopping until the whole thing was in him.

“You’re _kidding_ , right? You just got up, and first thing you do is drink an entire beer.”

Dennis had made a reappearance, always showing up right when Mac _didn’t_ want him to.

“Shut up, I’m _hydrating_. Shit’s important, especially when you’ve got as much muscle to maintain as me. Gotta drink lots of fluids throughout the day.”

“Yea, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to hydrate with _water_ , not beer. Take it from me, I’m the king of body maintenance.”

Before Mac could even open his mouth to reply, Charlie was walking out of his room and over to where the roommates were standing.

“Oh, hey, Dennis. ‘Sup?”

Mac didn’t bother listening to the resulting conversation between his friends, instead opting to slam back another beer. He went to his room, put on a shirt and by the time he went back out to the others, they were yelling at each other about some stupid shit. It only took a few minutes of that before they simmered down and the three of them headed out to the bar.

Dee and Frank were there already when they arrived, so Mac sat and demanded a beer from Dee (which earned him a finger and her walking away) while Charlie explained to Frank why he wasn’t home last night. But then Mac overheard Frank asking about Charlie’s whereabouts the past week. He used the bar to turn himself so he was facing Charlie, eyes on his face so he can calculate whether he’s lying or not.

“Charlie, bro, have you been sleeping in the bar for the last week?”

“What? Uh, no, guys, I haven’t… I haven’t been sleeping in the bar!”

“You sure? You haven’t been at the apartment, where’ve you been?”

At that last remark by Frank, Charlie shook his head looking nervous and he’d always been such a bad liar, but he tried anyway, always.

“I’ve been, you know, I’ve been out! Places!”

“You know, he’s always here when I come into the bar.”

“Wow, I see how it is, everyone’s against Charlie! Even Dee. Well, I’m not staying for it, I’ve got—things to do!”

With that, Charlie left the pub, leaving the other member of the gang to exchange glances.

“Yea, he’s definitely been sleeping in the bar. Mac, we’re leaving it up to you to take care of this.”

“What? Why me?”

Mac watched as Dennis and the others shared looks, as though they were communicating without words and just came up with the perfect plan to screw Mac over.

“You guys are close. But, mostly, it’s because none of _us_ want to. Dee and I are too busy, we’ve got plans. And Frank, well, _Frank_ … we’ve got something else we need Frank to do.”

Mac groaned, told them off with a few choice words, then drank a beer from behind the bar. He wasn’t as against the idea of helping Charlie out as he made it seem. In fact, he was _glad_ he was the one chosen for this task. It gave him a reason and an excuse to push on the issue he’d let pass so easily before.

After his beer, he went out, got some glue that was actually huff-able instead of the Elmer’s crap Charlie always got, and waited at the bar for his friend to reappear. It took a few hours, but that was why he got the glue, and it was why he was at a _bar_. He was there alone by that point, Dee, Dennis, and Frank out doing whatever it was they were doing. Even after Charlie came back, it took Mac about another hour to really sober up and serious himself out enough to deal with breaching the matter.

“Okay, Charlie.”

“Huh?”

“Right, so, why have you been spending your nights here? And don’t bother denying it, seriously, you’re a shitty liar.”

He was turned to face his friend fully, eye contact made and everything else you’re supposed to do when confronting someone about sleeping in the backroom of a bar every night for a straight week (possibly even longer than that).

“Listen, I just, I need to be away from sleeping with Frank for a while. That’s it.”

Mac nodded in understanding. He didn’t even want to imagine what sleeping in the same bed with that man every night was like.

“Okay, but you can’t be sleeping here at the bar anymore. Uh, how about,” he swallowed thickly, thought about it for a minute before continuing. “I’ve got an extra blanket; you can set up a spot on my floor if you really need a different place to sleep.”

He watched as something weird passed across Charlie’s features, but then he nodded and it was over.

“Yea, that’d be cool.”


	3. if i had a dollar bill for every time i was wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter should be the last ya  
> im sick atm though so idk when i'll be able to get that out, sorry ahead of time!!

All Mac told the others was that it was all done, taken care of, no more Charlie sleeping in the bar. He didn’t expand beyond that, not even to Dennis even though, really, he’d find out soon enough Charlie was going to be staying with them. He didn’t really have a _reason_ to not go any further than that, but for whatever rationale the thought of Charlie and him being in a room by themselves for hours every night for an unknown amount of time made him _uncomfortable_ in a way that he can’t totally describe. He didn’t let himself linger on it, though, instead busying himself with finding his own extra blanket and taking another from Dennis’ room to set up some kind of bed on the floor. He figured Charlie would be more comfortable laying on a blanket than the straight floor, and that was what Dennis’ blanket was for since Mac’s was probably the warmer of the two. And, yea, maybe he liked the idea of Charlie wrapped up in _his_ blanket, but he was the king of ignoring that sort of thought when it came up.

Mac came up with another positive to Charlie staying with him and Dennis: it meant his friend would be able to take real showers instead of just washing himself in a sink. And that meant he’d smell better, probably. Or at least Mac hoped it did. He also hoped Charlie would actually take advantage of their working shower. He planned on making sure about that last part, though, planned on making it a rule that if he wanted to be under Mac’s roof he had to _shower_ under Mac’s roof. Well, Mac and _Dennis’_ roof.

The first night Charlie was to start staying over, Mac felt like a child, he was back at six and sneaking his best friend in past his arguing parents to his room, and no one would notice (or, looking back, they probably simply didn’t _care_ ) when Charlie joined them for breakfast in the morning. Charlie’s own mom was most likely just glad to have the break from taking care of her son so she let the boys do whatever they wanted. They sometimes would go to Charlie’s house, but after Mac’s dad got arrested while he was at school he was too scared his mom would disappear too and didn’t want to spend any nights not at his own home. Charlie understood, though, without Mac having to put more than a few words forward, as he always seemed to.

Of course, Dennis was different from either of their parents, and while he didn’t question Charlie walking home with them he _did_ question it when, in the morning, Charlie was still there and in clothes different from before (he’d brought over a garbage bag filled with what he needed earlier, when Mac was setting up his makeshift bed).

They explained it to him as casually as they could, and to Mac’s surprise he didn’t argue nearly as much as he’d expected. Dennis had mainly put up a fit with them not talking to him about it before, because it was _his_ place, too.

After that, he’d looked Charlie dead in the eye and told him if he touched his food he would bang the waitress, and that was the end of it. Mac had gotten a similar threat when he and Dennis first moved in together, except it had been anchored toward Mac so it hadn’t had to do with Dennis banging anyone. Mac’s pretty sure it had to do with Dennis burning the cross his mother gave him, but it had been a few years and he didn’t totally remember. The point being that Dennis was weirdly protective over his food, and weirdly good at knowing just how to hurt any one specific person.

Sometimes, though, Mac wondered if Charlie was really so attached to the waitress that the worst thing to be done to him would be someone sleeping with her. In Mac’s opinion, she wasn’t really that great. Not worth hiring spies for, not worth really any of the attention Charlie put into her. But then other times Mac wondered why he even cared that much, anyway. It wasn’t really anything to him if Charlie chose to obsess over some girl that—it just wasn’t anything to him, and it _shouldn’t_ be anything to him.

It’d been a week of Charlie staying at his place, and there didn’t seem to be any signs that he was going back to Frank soon. Which Mac found he was more than fine with. Living with Charlie meant he got to spend almost every minute he had with one of his favourite people. He started to insist that, when they weren’t together, he call and check in, just as he had Dennis do. He got _worried_ when he didn’t know where people were, irrationally scared that they’d been abducted or something close to that. He even had his mother phoning him at least once a day, because even if all she did was grunt in reply to his talk it made him feel just that much better. Of course, she never bothered phoning on Sunday’s, because that was when they went to church together and that was counted as her check in for the day.

So far it had been without any problems, except for the second night when Mac had gotten up to take a piss and stepped on his floor-bound friend.  Other than that, however, everything was perfect. Charlie had kept himself out of Dennis’ stuff, mostly because of Mac watching like a hawk any time he went to the fridge or the room of the mentioned.

But then came the _inevitable_ downfall of that perfect groove they’d fallen into. It was a weekend, and Dennis had gone out with Charlie. Mac had been invited to join them, but he knew it was just a courtesy thing, he knew it was because _they_ knew if they had just gone out without inviting him he’d have thrown a classic Mac fit. And maybe it was paranoid of him to think like that, but he’d always gone by the words _better safe than sorry_ when it came to that sort of thing.  He’d lived his whole life with his self-preservation instincts active, learned from his father that he had to take care of himself because if _he_ didn’t, who would? And of course, at the time, Mac had replied that _Charlie would take care of me_ because that had been the most obvious answer to him at the time. But then a year later his dad was sent away to prison and he never saw him again, and he thought over the last thing his father had tried to teach him. And that was how he decided that he could trust Charlie, but he had to trust _himself_ more.

Later that same night, around one in the morning when Mac was trying to sleep (and failing, because he was worried about his friends) Charlie had stumbled into the room and shook Mac way more violently than was needed.

“What the fuck, Charlie? What do you want?”

“Dude, I need you to—do you mind sleeping on the couch? Uh, I brought a girl, and I promise we won’t use your bed but I’d like to use my spot on the floor.”

Mac heard him, what he said, but all that really processed was the fact that Charlie had brought a girl over with the intention of _banging_ said girl. And that bothered him, though he wasn’t too sure why. He shoved it off as the fact that Charlie wanted him to bang a girl in _his_ room.

“What? No way, bro. _You_ go take the couch.”

“I can’t, Dennis is mackin’ on some chick on it.”

“Then why the Hell would you tell _me_ to go to the couch?”

The whole thing was turning into one of their shouting matches, and Mac was just _tired_ and annoyed and he didn’t want to go out to the couch where Dennis and a girl were. He also didn’t want to have to hear Charlie’s weird yell-scream, either, and he could tell that was coming up so he simply fell back onto the bed, pulled the pillow over his face, and told Charlie to “ _just fuck off_.”

Which wasn’t taken lightly by the other, apparently, because soon the pillow was taken away and Charlie’s face was _too_ close.

“C’mon, man, I’d do it for you! Just, ten minutes, okay?”

Mac simply _groaned_ and shut his eyes.

“Just—just join Dennis on the couch or some shit. I’m not gonna leave so you can bang some random girl in front of the Jesus’ in here.”

“Why not? You do it!”

At that comment Mac reopened his eyes, but still kept them at a slant.

“No, I don’t.”

“Man, what are you talking about? You bang chicks all the time!”

“Yea, but never in front of the Jesus’. I _always_ go to the girls place. You’re standing on sacred ground, Charlie. No one has ever banged anyone in this room. Which is another reason I’m saying no to you, by the way. There is _no_ way I’m gonna let you have sex in this room before me.”  

He watched as Charlie opened his mouth to reply, but before noise could even leave the door was opened and a not-bad brunette was standing there, hand still holding onto the handle. Mac performed an ocular pat down on the girl while she stood there, not really hearing what she was saying to Charlie while he decided if she was a threat or not. He came to the conclusion that the only thing she stood to harm was the virgin sanctity of his room, which in terms of things wasn’t the _worst_. Though it was definitely in the orange.

He didn’t really think to tune back in to what was happening, instead focusing on the fact that while they were arguing Charlie had gotten so close he’d started to lean over, hands gripping the edge of the bed and still there even though he was talking to someone else. If Mac leaned up just a bit, he could kiss Charlie. And he wasn’t thinking that because he _wanted_ to kiss Charlie, it was just an observation. A regular one. Just like the observation that Charlie’s lips were chapped and well chewed, and that if Mac ran his tongue over them it’d probably be just a little bumpy. He wondered if it would taste like the cheese Charlie almost always consistently smelled like, or if it would be more like the paint he huffed, or if it’d be something else entirely different. Mac figured it would be the last, since Charlie was always surprising him.  

And then that’s where the real problem began. Mac felt like he’d lost all control of his own body, and suddenly he was leaning up where he _shouldn’t_ have and he was kissing his best friend. Right there, in front of all his Jesus pictures and his mother’s cross and the girl Charlie had wanted to put the slip in. And it was, at once, the best and worst moment of his life. The best because Charlie tasted like beer and some sort of candy, and he was surprised (was he _ever_ surprised) and the kiss really only lasted a few seconds before all of Mac’s real instincts and all of his thoughts went back to, but in those few seconds Charlie had _kissed him back_. And he didn’t know why that made him happy, why the thought of it filled his head with sparklers, and he wasn’t sure he liked his reaction to _Charlie’s_ reaction. But then it was also the worst moment of his life because Mac just _kissed_ a _man_ , in front of _Jesus_. And Mac knew he wasn’t gay, but then why had he kissed Charlie and why had kissing Charlie made him so… _happy_? His head was so full of questions and self-loathing and the left over fireworks from the kiss he wasn’t sure would ever leave him, and he wasn’t sure what to do at all, how to react to his _own_ actions. So, Mac did what he always did. He went with his self-preservation instincts on full blast. Which really meant that he had left the entire apartment, that he had run away from Charlie’s surprised yell and right past the girl that had _still_ been standing there. He didn’t really have a place he was going to in his mind, just knew and felt he had to get out of there.

Best case scenario, he and Charlie could lie to themselves and call it weird drunken antics (even though Charlie had been tipsy at most, and Mac himself certainly wasn’t drunk). Worst case scenario, he’d have to get a new identity and move to Mexico, or even worse, _Canada_.


	4. but jesus, when it rains how it pours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am sooo sorry for how late this is. i've been sick and ridiculously busy, but i didn't expect it to take quite this long.  
> also for the sake of not taking another two weeks to finish there will be just one more chapter. i promise it won't be as long as this one haha.  
> comment with your thoughts!!

In terms of running away from his problems, Mac was a pro. He’d had years of practice, screwing up more than the average person should and getting himself into more jams than a shitty office printer.

But never in his life had he done, or been part of, something quite on _this_ scale of fucked up. He’d faked his own death because he thought his own father was going to kill him, but even that wasn’t quite there because at least he had had Charlie for that. He’d had Charlie through every single messed up, shitty thing he did or came up with. And that’s probably what was so bad about this particular situation, that he didn’t have his best friend since childhood (maybe even _womb_ -hood) to help him deal. And he didn’t have Charlie because he’d _kissed_ Charlie.

And even if they got over it, even if they went back and pretended nothing happened Mac still wouldn’t _really_ have his friend back. Because having his friend back the full way would mean he’d be able to talk about anything with him, and he’d never be able to talk about the kiss. He wouldn’t be able to talk about all the confusion he felt, wouldn’t be able to talk about how itchy and swollen his chest felt when he thought about doing it _again_. He wouldn’t be able to talk about how he’d been thinking about nothing _but_ kissing Charlie again.

So, in the best case, he’d get another Dennis level friend. Where they talk, but not about anything really _meaningful_. Mac considered Dennis a blood brother, his other best friend, but he didn’t want Charlie and him to have the same relationship as them. Mac wasn’t sure if he could really handle that, and if so it would be with the help of extra drinking.

After Mac had left the apartment, running away from his own mistake, he’d gone to Paddy’s. The whole thing was probably some kind of irony, the fact that his attempt at stopping Charlie from sleeping at the bar ended in him spending a night there himself. He’d drunk some beers, and he’d wanted more but he also didn’t to blackout and wake up to discover he’d done something to make the situation even worse. He didn’t want it to end with him leaving thirty different drunken voicemails on Charlie’s phone, his slurred voice saying sorry over and over, embarrassing himself more than he already had.

He didn’t sleep; just sat in the back office with his head in his hands. If he ever caught himself closing his eyes, when his consciousness was just about to slip, the memory of earlier would hit him right in the face and ensure he stayed wide awake, heart racing like a millionaire horse.

Once the later morning hit, Mac decided to open the bar and let the regulars in so he would at least have some company and an excuse to sit and drink.  Not that he was going to sit _with_ them or anything, but it was still better than being completely alone in the bar.

And then not even two minutes after twelve o’clock hit the door swung open rather roughly, as though someone had really put their force into it. And when Mac looked he wished he hadn’t because eye contact was made and Charlie was walking right over to him, business in his heart and on his face.

The first thing Mac did was stuff the tip of his beer in his mouth and pour the whole thing back. If he was going to deal with his friend already (or, _ever_ ) he wanted all the alcohol in his system he could get. 

“Dude, what the fuck?”

And, alright, he _knew_ Charlie was right there, but hearing him speak still managed to surprise him into chocking on his beer and in his rush to pull the bottle from his face send some dribbling down his chin.

While he coughed and wiped the beer/saliva mix off his lower face, he kept his eyes completely off the other. He didn’t want any more eye contact than they’d already had.

“Jesus, what, Charlie?”

His words wore edges his tone couldn’t support. He wanted it to sound as it normally would, like nothing really had happened and he was annoyed at Charlie for making him choke, but he just couldn’t muster it. He was too _nervous_.

“Uh, oh, I don’t know, maybe I want to know—you know what? This is—one second.”

Charlie pulled himself up and stood onto a stool, waving his hands around while he shouted at everyone in the bar to leave. Mac didn’t even know how he was supposed to react, but his body must have that covered for him because he could feel himself starting to sweat.  He drank the little left of his beer and watched as everyone obeyed Charlie’s crazed yelling, and soon enough it was only the two of them and Mac was sure if his shirt had sleeves there would be some pretty distinct stains on the pits of them.

“Alright.”

That one word was spoken by Charlie while he sat on the stool he was only _just_ standing on seconds ago, his elbow now resting on the bar while he stared heavily at Mac. And of course he _knew_ what Charlie was doing because Mac was never good at not staring at his friend, even in a situation as dire as this. But at least he hadn’t looked at his friend’s eyes, so there was no eye contact and it wasn’t really so bad to just be staring at Charlie’s unshaven chin.

“ _Now_ , Mac. Mac McDonald… Look me in the eye, dude. This feels weird. What are you even looking at?”

Mac coughed, short and purposeful and with his hand momentarily covering his mouth.

“Nothing, I’m not looking at anything. I mean, I am… This is eye contact.”

“Alright, yea, okay,” Charlie’s voice dropped slightly as he went on with the sentence, his fingers drumming along the bar with Mac still staring dead at his beard. He cleared his throat, then began anew with his voice at a now slightly _too_ high pitch. “Sooo… what was up with that kiss? And the thing where you ran away after? Cause, that was, I mean… Yea.”

Okay, he knew that was what this was all about, _of course_ it was, but the topic still sent a warm flush straight to Mac’s cheeks and he still had to switch his gaze to his own hands on the bar top before he could answer. He wished he still had the full beard he did when he had gained all that mass a while back; it would’ve given him at least something to hide behind.

He didn’t respond until after he’d taken one deep breath, in and out as you’re to do, and his hand had gone through and messed up his already fairly messy hair.

“I don’t know. I mean, it just… _happened_ , dude.”

“Alright, well—well, do you… I mean, do you—” Charlie interrupted his own self with one of his groans, the loud one that meant he was frustrated. Usually he made it during arguments or when he was trying to write something actually legible.

“Do you _still_ want to—do you still feel like you want to? I mean, maybe it was a one-time thing, get it out of your system, you know? I did that once with, uh, actually, never mind. Never mind.”

Mac’s gaze shot from his empty-bottle clutching hands to his friend, looking to his eyes without even thinking about it. He was being given an out. He could lie and say he hadn’t thought about or craved kissing Charlie again and things would probably be better for it. But while Mac wasn’t a bad liar at all, Charlie still almost always could find him out. And Mac didn’t want to lie about this only for Charlie to _know_ he was lying, because that would just moot the point and things would get awkward anyway. Not only because Charlie would know Mac still had thoughts about kissing him, but also because Charlie never took when Mac lied to him well. In seventh grade, on father’s day, Mac had skipped school. He’d never done that before by himself, he’d always skipped with Charlie. He hadn’t wanted Charlie’s feelings hurt by hearing he’d done what they always did together alone, so he’d told him his mom had made him stay home. When Charlie found out it was a lie, Mac had been given an unwavering cold shoulder for a solid seven days.

Mac was left which the decision between lying- which came with a high chance of Charlie _knowing_ he was lying and then being angry right alongside the awkwardness him _knowing_ would bring- or he could tell the truth. Which was scary, but the whole thing had brought thoughts and feelings to the surface he’d been holding down for so long it’d be a relief to finally let them out, even if only in a few words. Maybe it would be enough and Charlie would just _understand_ , like he always seemed to, what Mac cannot push out of his mouth.

But then maybe that was all too much to expect, to wish for.

But then Mac had also always been a (self-acclaimed) rule breaker and ready to expect more than he’d ever get.

“No. I mean, no, it’s not like that. It’s—I might still—I _do_ still— _fuck_. This is hard.”

Mac was back to staring anywhere but not Charlie, with one hand gripping his own hair in frustration. Words were just too out of reach, and too hard to push out past his clenched teeth.

And the worst part really was how _patient_ Charlie was being. Charlie was never patient. He hated waiting too long to hear the point of something, or what you really want to say, and was always waving his hand around in that way that says “ _okay, hurry up, hurry up._ ” And that was just Charlie; impatient, unwilling to listen to what he didn’t care about or deemed unnecessary.

The fact that he was willing to listen to Mac tip-toe around the subject added another layer of pressure for Mac to deal with, added just that much more stress when he _couldn’t_ form the sentences and words he needed to. But it also caused the warm, itchy feeling in Mac’s chest to return. Charlie was willing to sit through all the bullshit and just _wait_ for Mac to say what they both knew was too hard for him to say.

It was weird, the itchy feeling and the frustration mixed together. It made him feel pressured enough that he was willing to just blurt out what he should’ve about twenty minutes ago, or maybe even eleven hours before.

“I _do_ want to kiss you. But—not in… I’m not gay; you’re the only dude I want to kiss, okay?”

He counted each and every painful second Charlie was silent, his breathing stopped and his face flushed.

He was at _five_ when Charlie cleared his throat.

And he was at _seven_ when he heard Charlie get up.

Before his thoughts went bad places but still not quite before the fear and the thought of his best friend leaving in disgust entered his mind, when he got up to _eight_ , there were calloused and just a little sweaty hands on each of Mac’s cheeks. 

He didn’t make a sound and his breath was still tightly held, but he did force his eyes into looking at Charlie’s.

 _Charlie_ , who had parted lips and an eyelash on his cheek. Charlie, who simply looked at Mac and said “you’re gay, dude.”

And then he kissed him.

Mac’s reaction was almost immediate, save the few seconds he took to realize what was happening. He let out the breath he’d been holding, all through the nose and right in Charlie’s face who grunted in response but didn’t seem to really mind. And then he was giving back as good as he was getting, his eyes slipping closed on their own. One hand moved onto a shoulder and the other to the back of his neck so he could pull him as much closer as he could. Charlie was still holding onto his face, but one hand had moved lower so it was resting on his jaw more than his _cheek_.  

Mac liked the way Charlie’s facial hair scratched into his skin when either of them moved. He liked the way he could still smell _Charlie_ behind the soap he used, could still smell the usual mix of cheese and beer and the cologne he was always stealing from Mac because it never really went away.

He liked that when he ran his tongue along Charlie’s bottom lip, it was just that little bit bumpy from biting as he had guessed it would be. And he liked the small noise Charlie made when he then pushed his tongue inside, and how he had pushed forwards own in response.

The kiss was sloppy, and Mac could tell Charlie hadn’t brushed his teeth, but it was still the best he had ever experienced. And maybe even better was the fact that he could _feel_ how good it was for Charlie, too, because the proof was pressing right against him. And it wasn’t like with Carmen, the tranny; it didn’t make things weird or make him uncomfortable. It actually felt _good_ to feel Charlie like that, he _liked_ it and tried to press their bodies even closer for it. 

Doing this with Charlie was like they were stupid hormonal teenagers all over again, their surroundings completely forgotten as they licked into each other’s mouths and not even caring when Mac nearly falls off the stool he’s sat in. They don’t even start when they hear the door opening, when there’s the sound of chatter. It all just seemed so _distant_ , like it wasn’t even part of the now. It was really only when there was a yell that Mac forced an eye to open so he could see what was starting to disturb a perfectly good ( _so good_ ) make out session with his best friend.

And, okay, he maybe _screamed_ a little at seeing the entire gang right there, standing behind Charlie and staring at them both. Which was fine, because his mouth being on Charlie’s muffled it. 

The only _not fine_ part was that the startlement caused him to bite Charlie’s tongue, and soon their faces were separated and Mac could hear the others laughing and probably poking jabs but all he was really focused on was, again, _Charlie_. Whose lips were red and swollen, and whose cheeks were flush a light shade of pink (the eyelash was still there, too). Mac moved the hand from his neck so it was just resting, not holding onto any part but still there. And Charlie moved his own hands down so they were settling on Mac’s shoulders, close to the base of his neck but not quite there.

He should’ve been embarrassed at his friends walking in and catching him in such a moment, but he just couldn’t bring himself to it. There was something about Charlie that sent him to a euphoric sort of place. Maybe not all the time, but when they were close like this. And it was amazing, really, because Mac wouldn’t throw any anger fits and he wouldn’t yell out any vulgarities and nothing but Charlie did that for him, stopped those things that not even he could control.

No matter what sort of state of mind Mac was in, however, he could tell when his friend was feeling uncomfortable, and even if _he_ didn’t mind he still let go, released his legs and backed up in his chair so there were some inches between the two men.

And _maybe_ that made it worse because while it was a sobering experience to be walked in on it wasn’t a cold shower, and while Mac was on a stool and Charlie hadn’t moved there was still enough space there that anyone could see—

“Holy shit. They have _boners_.”

That wasn’t _totally_ accurate, because Mac himself was only at half-mast by that point.

But the declaration from Dennis still caused him to self-consciously tug at his pants, and caused his eyes to flicker downwards out of their own volition for a second to where Charlie was tugging at his own pants.

It was remarkable just how much that short make-out session had affected them both and all Mac really _wanted_ was to go back to it.

And he had, as he always seemed to lately, tuned out from his surroundings to think about and consider what they’d be doing if the others weren’t there.  Which wasn’t exactly the train he should’ve been taking, considering Charlie and him had only _just_ been called out for their erections.

The only thing that saved him from that path was Charlie’s sudden frustrated groan in response to something one of the others had said, pulling him back to what was happening. He’d still missed apparently an entire conversation, and when Charlie was precipitously shoving everyone out the door he could only really watch and feel confused.

Then there was the _click_ of the lock, and the sound of Charlie walking back over.

“Jesus, dude.”

And normally Mac might’ve hit back with a comment on Charlie’s use of the Lord’s name in vain, but the circumstance they were in wasn’t exactly normal and Mac probably used the name as a curse more than Charlie did _anyway_. So, instead, he cleared his throat and replied with an easy “ _yea_ ” and let a _not so_ easy silence fall on them, listening and watching as Charlie’s fingers drummed along the bar.

But they weren’t best friends for nothing; silence could not and _had_ not ever stood a chance against them.

Usually it was Charlie that broke it, since he got the most antsy from prolonged quiet, and right then wasn’t any different.

“We should, uh. We should talk about… You know. Y’know?”

“…Yea.”

“Okay.”

“—You go first.”

“What? Why me? _You_ go first!”

“Because _you’re_ the one that came in here and… You started it!”

“What? _You’re_ the one that started it! You—kissed me first!”

Then there was another silent _pause_. This one only lasted only as long as it took Mac to exhale all the air in his lungs, and then he was ready to ignore the burning in his cheeks and look at Charlie.

“Fine. Okay. Let’s… Okay. I’m not gay, but—just listen! Don’t, don’t _look_ like that.”

“I’m listening! Alright, carry on. I’m listening.”

“ _Okay_. I’m not gay, but I might be for _you_? And I think that’s probably fine, ‘cause… I think I’ve banged enough chicks to make up for it. So, yea.” 

“…Dude, that is the worst love confession ever.”

“Shut up. It wasn’t a love confession, it was just…”

“You said you were _gay_ for me! That counts, bro.”

The whole thing wasn’t going any direction Mac had wanted it to. In fact, he’s pretty sure the entire train of conversation got derailed and is now headed right to the ocean, and there are no life jackets on board and no one knows how to swim. Rest in peace every man, child, and woman on board.

And _perhaps_ he was being dramatic, but he did just admit something kind of _life altering_ and his best friend’s response was to make fun of him.

And, yea, that _was_ how they always were with each other, but Mac had still been hoping for a straight forward reply or even just—polite rejection. A simple _it’s not you, it’s me_.

“Whatever. I guess… We’ve talked.”

Mac roughly rubbed the palm of his hand against his cheek where his embarrassment was still evident, scratching his hand on the hairs he hadn’t been able to shave off in light of having slept in a _bar_.

“What? No, no, Mac, we’re not done talking. We’ve barely even _started_.”

“Then say what you want to say already. I did _my_ part.”  

“Okay, _okay_! I’ll just… I’m gay for you, too. There.”

And Charlie was right in making fun of Mac earlier because it really was such an _underwhelming_ way to confess your feelings, Mac could recognize that. But it still hit him, hearing those words, like a punch to the gut. In a _good_ way, but also in a _holy shit_ way.

He hadn’t expected or prepared himself for Charlie reciprocating in anything, despite the fact that he had come here and initiated a second kiss that pushed for more. He’d sort of been hoping for the _opposite_ , actually, because he figured it’d be easier. They could just avoid each other for a week or two, and then pretend nothing had happened. But _this_ —Charlie actually wanting him as _he_ wanted Charlie, it meant them falling into a new sort of relationship altogether. It meant they’d have to figure things out.

And Mac didn’t even know how to begin with _any_ of it.

He didn’t know how to respond to the words that just fell from Charlie’s mouth, didn’t think he was really even capable of doing anything beyond staring with his mouth agape.

“…Aren’t you going to _say_ something? Or—it’s freaking me out how you’re just staring, dude.”

The sound of Charlie’s voice after what had felt like a year’s worth of silence didn’t suddenly give Mac all the words he was searing for, but it did at least get spark him into closing his mouth and clearing his now dry throat.

And while Mac continued to stare, this time with a _closed_ mouth, he could tell Charlie was getting fidgety. It was in the way he chewed the skin off his bottom lip, in the way his eyes kept darting around at different things. And that had always been a sign for Mac to do something, a sign that Charlie wouldn’t be able to handle the silence or _whatever_ for much longer.  

So, as his _something_ , Mac got up and did what he’d really been wanting to do the whole time; he pulled Charlie forward by the shoulder and _kissed_ him.

It was different from the other two. The first one, that had been rushed, and an accident, and not the way for a first kiss to be. The second one was _good_ but hard with rough edges; it was the exact sort you’d _expect_ Charlie to give.

But _this_ one, it was soft and humble and the kind you might see in those black and white romance movies from the fifties, the ones Charlie’s mom liked.

Mac wanted so bad for it to be nice for Charlie too, for him to not be the only one enjoying the moment. He took care to hold his breath as long as he could and when he couldn’t last, to breathe out _softly_ and through the nose. He had never worried about a kiss as much as he was then; usually he was sure of himself and didn’t really _care_ if the girls he was with liked it or not, anyway. He’d never kissed like this, gentle and with his partner in his mind. He let Charlie do the pushing, let _him_ lead it into how _he_ wanted it. Letting Charlie take the reins meant it got a little rougher, a little more forceful but that’s just how Charlie _was_ and it’s how he always had been. He was a force to be reckoned with and he didn’t _do_ gentle even when he meant it.

It didn’t take long before they were at where they were before Dennis, Dee, and Frank had come through the doors earlier. Except this time Mac was standing and it was just a little awkward, because Charlie was shorter and that meant leaning down and leaning up for Charlie. . They’d have time to work on it, though, time to practice.

Mac pulled Charlie closer by a belt loop on his jeans, one that was located near his hip, and Charlie in return pulled Mac in with a hand that was on his lower back and it was _nice_ , the feeling being that close and the feeling of being pushed _into_ Charlie’s evident boner. Mac breathed out a little harder and made this sort of _grunt_ he hadn’t heard himself make before. It was apparently a _good_ sort of grunt because Charlie pushed forward in the kiss just a bit more, as much more as he really _could_ , and he—he _rutted_ against Mac, whose entire bodies supply of blood was suddenly only in one place. 

“We should— _back room_.”

It was the only really coherent thing he could get out, and it was only because it felt so _open_ doing all this in the front of the bar, even if the door was locked and it was only them, and they’d really probably done weirder stuff there anyway.  

Charlie seemed to understand, though, probably felt the same way, and soon they were heading back there and sometimes tripping because they hadn’t bothered to let each other _go_. It was an awkward way to walk, your hands and mouth on someone and, in Mac’s case, walking _backwards_.

It didn’t take long for them to get to the door, and there was no serious accident, and Mac was pressed against that door for a _glorious_ full minute before Charlie managed to open it. He was surprised at himself for how much he _enjoyed_ being pressed against a surface like that, despite the kissing having stopped due to Charlie focusing instead on finding and using the doorknob.

And maybe Mac shouldn’t have put all his weight against the door they were trying to _open_ , because it ended with him losing his balance completely and pulling Charlie down to the ground with him. Which _hurt_ , but at the same time—Charlie was now on top of him on the floor.  

Which was _nice_ , and it was even _nicer_ when Charlie adjusted so instead of his chin digging into Mac’s collarbone and instead of his knees on either side of one leg he was straddling and kissing Mac. And it was like, being like _this_ with Charlie, Mac couldn’t even _feel_ the pain from falling not even a minute before. It was a lot like being drunk; like that time he’d tripped and scraped his arm and didn’t even notice or feel it until the next day when he was sobered up.

Charlie’s teeth nipped at Mac’s bottom lip, and it was probably the first time Mac ever _loved_ Charlie’s penchant for biting. The _second_ time was when Charlie moved down and started to kiss and nip at Mac’s neck, and in response Mac forgot every single _one_ of his hesitancies and let his hands roam down and grab onto Charlie’s butt.

The jeans Charlie wore were rough against his hands, and the button on one of the pockets was _scratchy_ , so there was only really one solution; the pants had to go. Or, at least, they had to be unbuttoned and unzipped and pushed down as far as they _could_ go without anyone really _moving_.

And when he did it to Charlie’s pants, of course the same had to be done to _his_. Which required lifting himself a bit and that was so much easier said than done considering Charlie was on top of him and seemed to not notice what he was trying at doing.

“Charlie, just—one sec.”

That gave him the break he’d been looking for to push his own pants down, and using his feet (and a bit of squirming he’s pretty sure Charlie _enjoyed_ ) he managed to actually get them the full way off. As soon as it was done he pulled Charlie’s face down and reinitiated the kiss that had been interrupted.

Things were just _that much_ better with fewer layers between them, but there was still a feeling of _not enough_ no matter how they were pressed together and no matter how they _moved_ against each other. It was like trying to scratch an itch through a sweater; it _worked_ but it was still eons better if you just rolled your sleeve up.

Mac was so _glad_ once again that this was _Charlie_ he was with, because they’d always been able to understand each other so well and Charlie was currently shoving off both their underwear, his first than Mac’s (he had to lift off the ground a bit again, but it was so _worth it_ ).

They went on as they had been, but it wasn’t quite _working_. It wasn’t bad, because _no part_ of what was happening was even close to bad, and it still felt fine but it was—it could be _better_. There was still a feeling of not enough, but this time it had to do with the fact that when they tried to move against each other their dicks went different directions and it wasn’t exactly what Mac would call _great_. He wasn’t exactly an _expert_ at gay sex (one time Charlie and him had tried to watch a gay porno, but the only computer available to them at the time was at the public library and they didn’t get very far before being caught and kicked out), but there had to be some sort of method they were missing.  Maybe if one of them just—

“I’m gonna try something, uh.”

 And then Mac touched another man’s penis for the second time in his life. The first was still Charlie’s, but it was when they were around eight and all the other kids were playing that doctor game and since Charlie and Mac only had each other, that was who _they_ played it with.

Charlie was definitely bigger than he had been at eight years old.

It took Mac a second or two to get _used_ to the feeling of his friend in his hand like that before he could go through with his idea. And he hadn’t really, because it would probably take a million more times before Mac got used to _any_ of this, but neither of them were in a _waiting_ mood. So, he placed Charlie’s dick on top of his own and kept his hand wrapped around them both to hold them there while they rutted against each other.

And Mac might just be a _genius_. A gay sex genius.

He knew Charlie had to agree because he was suddenly making these _noises_ that were really just loud squeaks but still made all remaining blood Mac might’ve had work harder at making him harder.

It was really just nude frottage, but it was still _so much_ better than any full-penetration sex Mac had ever had with a girl.  And it felt _right_. With girls, there’d always been an unsettling feeling of _wrong wrong wrong_ stuck deep inside him, right there with all his guts and organs.  He’d learned to just ignore it. But this, with Charlie, the feeling was _gone_ and replaced with something way better.

His breath was speeding up right along Charlie’s, and he wasn’t _as_ noisy but he was still sounding out his own grunts and groans as their pace quickened and slowed and quickened once again.

Charlie had stopped with kissing Mac’s neck way before and had just been breathing on it and sounding out all his noises into it which felt _better_ , probably, than if he had still been sucking at it. Mac liked the feeling of Charlie’s breath against him like that, how he could feel when it hitched and could tell if he was breathing shallow or deep. It added a whole new _level_ to the experience, one that was just a little more intimate.

It wasn’t all that surprising when Mac started to already feel a familiar heat gathering in his gut. All things considered, he was surprised he’d even lasted nearly as long as he had so far.

“Charlie— _Jesus_. I’m gonna…”

“Sa… Same.”

If Mac weren’t already so close to the edge, hearing Charlie with a breathy voice and broken up words would’ve _sent_ him there.

Their movements got clumsier and more erratic, and at one point Mac forgot to use the muscles in his hand and it ended in him rushedly repositioning their dicks because he’d let them slip, but it still felt _good_ and as they continued Mac could feel a pressure building, one that was _so_ familiar but at the same time _different_ because it was the first time he’d be getting off like _this_ , with _Charlie_. And that somehow made it feel even better when he got to the point where he tensed up then started to move more frantically. He was just feeling Charlie start to react the same when he couldn’t _handle_ it anymore and while he rode out his release, he bit his bottom lip in a poor attempt at not being _so_ loud.

Charlie didn’t last much longer after him, and it was the closest to finishing at the same time Mac had ever been with a partner. Not even that, but _he’d_ been the one to finish first. It was usually the _opposite_ with his female companions.

Once they were both _definitely_ done, Charlie just collapsed where he was on top of Mac and they both lay there breathlessly breathing hard together.

After a minute, or possibly _three_ , Charlie was the one to break the silence.

“That was... _Wow_ , dude.”

Mac let out a short, silent laugh that was more _breath_ than anything.

“Yea.” 


End file.
